Feet of Clay
by Kazza
Summary: COMPLETE - in this short story, Danielle discovers that some heroes have 'feet of clay'


Disclaimer - The world of 'Ever After' both belongs to cleverer people than I. There is no intention to infringe upon any copyright and I'm certainly not making any money whatever off this.   
  
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Feet of Clay  
  
by Kazza  
  
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The day had dawned cloudless and warm, reflecting Danielle's own emotions. Even now, nearly a full day since Henry had brought her to the renovated manor, Danielle still could not quite believe that her father's home had been restored. Danielle stared at the scarred bark of the apple trees and sighed at the disquieting thoughts than ran through her mind.  
  
"What is troubling you on such a fine day, hmmm?" The smile in Henry's voice didn't quite reach his eyes.  
  
Danielle felt his concern, "Nothing of importance." She glanced up into her husband's face, "I was wondering if Papa would have forgiven me for almost ruining the manor."   
  
"I am sure he would have, Your Highness."  
  
Danielle and Henry quickly turned to face the owner of the voice. Henry's hand was reaching for his sword while his wife scampered forward to hug the intruder.  
  
"Danielle! Take care!" Henry's cry fell on deaf ears.  
  
"Monsieur Manon! It has been so long since we last met!" Danielle hugged the elderly gentleman, who smiled at her but kept a wary eye on the armed Prince.  
  
"Yes, well, this is a much kinder place to visit, now." The gentleman smiled and said quietly, "Will you introduce me, Your Highness?"  
  
"Oh!" Danielle turned and hesitated slightly at the look of anger on Henry's face. "Henry, dear, this is Monsieur Manon, my neighbour and Gustave's father. Monsieur, this is my husband, Prince Henry."  
  
Henry looked at the older man. He was slightly taller than Danielle and dressed in the sombre colours of a merchant. His hair, small pointed beard and long moustaches may once have been fair like his son's but now were as white as Leonardo's. And his eyes twinkled with good humour.  
  
Although Monsieur Manon bore the appearance of a distinguished gentleman rather than an assassin, Henry was not happy with the ease with which he entered the grounds and said so.  
  
"Ah," Monsieur Manon said sagely. "Your guardsman wouldn't happen to be the officer I saw walking with Mademoiselle Jacqueline?"  
  
Henry nodded.  
  
"Yes, well, I did say good day to them on my way past. Jacqueline did not introduce us - I believe her attention was focussed, umm, elsewhere at the time." Gustave's father winked at Danielle. "Come to think of it he didn't say anything either."  
  
Henry sighed and shot a glare at his giggling wife. "This is not funny, Danielle. Next time it may not be a friend."  
  
"Your husband is right, my dear." The Monsieur hesitated before continuing, "I had best leave before I get that officer in any more trouble. However, before I go I must give you this." Manon handed Danielle a sealed letter. "This was entrusted to me on the condition that it be handed to you, Danielle, when you turned twenty-one or when you were betrothed. It is a little late for your betrothal but I hope it is useful."  
  
Henry watched his wife hesitantly touched the writing on the folded parchment.   
  
"That's Papa's hand." Danielle whispered. She turned the letter over and ran her fingers over the de Barbarac seal.  
  
"Why not take it inside and read it, my dear?" Monsieur Manon smiled at Danielle then looked at Henry. "It may be best to read it sitting down. I would be most happy to speak with you tomorrow about your father, should you wish it."  
  
Henry read the message in the elderly man's gaze and quietly took the letter from his wife. He bade farewell to Manon and led Danielle towards the manor.  
  
"Please give me the letter, Henry." Danielle's voice was wavering with emotion.  
  
"We shall read it inside, my love." The quiet command in Henry's voice stilled Danielle's complaints. Within minutes they were in the main living room of the manor.  
  
Henry led Danielle to the chaise. Once they were seated he handed Danielle the letter. "You must not expect too much dearest. This letter must have been written a very long time ago."  
  
Danielle nodded, nervously broke the seal and began to read.  
  
My Dearest Danielle,  
  
If you are reading this letter then the predictions of my physician must have come true. Forgive me my dear for leaving you but I had little choice in the matter. Before you were born, before I met your mother, I was struck with the same illness that took my parents and Maurice's father from this world. I alone survived but my recovery was slow and the physician feared that my heart was damaged. I believed that he was mistaken but now, so many years later, I have discovered that he was right.  
  
I love you my darling and want only the best for you. That is why I have made preparations for your future.   
  
You must understand, my dearest child, that our nearest adult relative is my cousin who is now a priest. On my death he would inherit control of the manor on your behalf. I know my cousin and the order he belongs to well. He would not hesitate to donate the manor to church and send you to a convent. I could not bear the though of you losing the manor which is your heritage and your dowry. Nor of your natural character being crushed by a rigid, cloistered world. I knew that if I were married my widow could retain the manor on your behalf. That is why I have provided you with a stepmother.   
  
I hope that Rodmilla has been kind to you. She is not a soft person, I know that, but she is a survivor who needs a home and no matter what she will keep your heritage safe for you. Undoubtedly you have got along well with her daughters, especially Marguerite who seems to be quite a proper little lady.   
  
I have arranged for papers to be drawn up securing the title of the manor in your name should Rodmilla remarry before you are of age. I shall bring them with me when I return from my next trip and entrust them to Monsieur Manon, with whom I have discussed my plans. He, or one of his sons, will deliver the papers with this letter.  
  
My health has robbed me of the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world, dearest, to watch you grow up into the wonderful woman that I am sure you will become. I am so proud of you and I love you my dearest. I hope that you are receiving this on the occasion of your betrothal and you have found love. I also hope that you can forgive your father for leaving you as I forgave your mother for leaving us.  
  
Farewell,  
  
Your father  
  
Auguste de Barbarac  
  
The letter fell from Danielle's limp hand and floated to the floor. Danielle could feel her secure world tumbling around her as the mythical, perfect childhood view of her father disappeared under the weight of reality.  
  
"Danielle? Darling?" Henry wrapped his arms around his wife's shaking form. "What is it?"  
  
"Papa used Rodmilla." Danielle felt the tears start to run down her cheeks. "He married her so that I would not lose the manor, so that I would be protected. How could he do that? It's so horrible."  
  
Henry slipped an arm free of their embrace and picked up the letter. He held Danielle tightly and read the letter. When he had finished he folded the letter and put it aside. From what Danielle had told him, Henry knew that Auguste must have written the letter mere days before his death.  
  
"Danielle. Your father was not a bad man - simply human like the rest of us. He was desperate and did what he thought was best."  
  
"But he was my father. He was perfect."  
  
"Sweetheart, when one is eight years old all parents are supposed to be perfect." Henry lifted Danielle's chin with his crooked finger. "If he had lived you would have discovered his clay feet by the time you were thirteen."  
  
Danielle smiled slightly at he husband's comment. Her childhood view of an impossibly perfect man was slowly being replaced by adult reality. "I would liked to have met him as an adult."  
  
Henry nodded, "So would I."  
  
They sat quietly for a moment then Henry spoken, quietly, "I think it would do Jacqueline the world of good to read this."  
  
"Are you sure? It's not nice, Henry." Danielle had visions of her stepsister's newly found self-confidence evaporating.  
  
"She needs to know that her mother was not the only manipulator. That it wasn't just blind luck that brought her here."  
  
Reluctantly Danielle agreed, adding, "But Maurice, Louise and Paulette must not know about this."  
  
And they never did.  
  
The End 


End file.
